


Food For Thought

by Gypsylady



Series: Food For Thought [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Recipes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsylady/pseuds/Gypsylady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one was sure whose idea it had been to put the Avengers into group counseling. It wasn't like the team members felt they needed it.</p><p>This is not your standard group therapy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homework

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an idea: an idea that I could write a fanfiction that belonged on a cooking blog. Mind you, http://wontonsluts.tumblr.com/ is not your average cooking blog.
> 
> But I digress. I've never been in group therapy. I have never studied it. I don't know if a real therapist would do this. But I can't imagine why a real therapist wouldn't try it.
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one was sure whose idea it had been to put the Avengers into group counseling. It wasn't like the team members felt they needed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

No one was sure whose idea it had been to put the Avengers into group counseling. It wasn't like the team members felt they needed it. Phil Coulson might have suggested it as a joke, but as he was still in a coma four months after Loki punctured his lung and left him for dead, his input was not likely involved.

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers suspected Maria Hill, Director Fury's top deputy. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov were blaming Agent Sitwell, who was Coulson's temporary replacement. Bruce Banner didn't know enough about the people at SHIELD to have a solid opinion as to the culprit but was generally suspicious of Director Fury just on principle. Thor was still in Asgard and was exempt from the sessions, for the time being at least.

Marissa Lowie was recognized by her peers as a brilliant therapist. She had all the right credentials, all the right security clearances, and all the right buzzwords. She even, thanks to an extensive briefing with Fury, Hill, Sitwell, and about a dozen other SHIELD personnel, had a pretty good idea what she was up against when she sat down in a SHIELD conference room with five of the six members of the team.

"Look, I'm a busy man so can we just stipulate that I have daddy issues and I'm an alcoholic?" Tony said with an air of deliberate distraction.

She nodded. "I don't plan to waste too much of your time, Mr. Stark. But we are going to finish this session before I rubber-stamp your self-diagnosis."

Bruce broke in, waving his hand. "Hi, um, rage issues, not controllable, and probably daddy issues but we're not going there because the results are invariably bad."

Marissa scribbled some notes and said, almost absent-mindedly, "Thank you, Dr. Banner. Anyone else care to do my job for me?"

Natasha shrugged and suggested, "Paranoia based on stressful upbringing and some hellacious trust issues, stemming no doubt from said upbringing and my workplace situation."

Following Natasha's lead, Clint put in, "Abandonment issues, unresolved childhood abuse, trust issues, part of the job, of course, and some residual guilt over being possessed by Loki and thinking I helped the bastard nearly kill my handler."

Marissa made non-committal sounds, then turned to Steve. "Care to guess what your problems are, Captain?"

He stammered a few false starts, then said, "I don't know the fancy words but I'm seventy years out of time, I have no idea what's going on around me most of the time, and right now my best friends are all loony. Or at least that's what they seem to be telling me. Oh, and one of them is a genuine god and he may or may not be nuts where he comes from but here he's pretty, uh, excessive."

There was a soft knock on the door. Bruce, the closest, pulled it open to reveal Agent Sitwell. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've received word that Thor is returning tomorrow and wondered if you wanted to delay this session until then so as to include him in this."

Marissa started to reply but Sitwell's cell phone rang. He spoke into it softly for a few moments, then clicked the speaker on and placed it on the conference table.

"Ho, my friends, I understand you are sharing tales around the table!" Thor's voice boomed through the room. "I fear I shall not be able to join you until tomorrow. My beloved Lady Jane, is detaining me with some riveting tales of her work, some excellent beverages involving something called cranberry juice, and the promise of another glorious night in each others' arms."

Steve pointed to the phone, and was about to say something. Marissa spoke first. "It's fine, Thor, we won't be meeting again for another two weeks. But I have some homework for you all, and I'd like to tell all of you about it at once, so if there are any questions, we can get them all answered now. "

The team members present exchanged confused and concerned looks. Tony mouthed "HOMEWORK?" to Bruce, who couldn't stop giggling. Steve and Clint both looked mildly panicked and Natasha examined her fingernails in a failed effort to look unconcerned.

"I am yours to command, Lady," Thor said.

Tony rolled his eyes. Steve, seeing it, started to laugh. Bruce was still giggling at Tony's faces. Clint joined in and finally even Natasha was laughing. Marissa hurried to explain to Thor that no one was laughing at him but he interrupted her.

"They often find humor in my words. I have learned to accept and even enjoy it. We are not of the same world, my friends and I, but we understand and enjoy one another."

"Strange but true," Tony observed. "The dude understands Jane Foster's work and still talks like Eric the Red about to kill Mercutio."

"I hope that was a mixed metaphor," Natasha said.

Marissa broke into the conversation. "Here is what I want you all to work on before our next meeting. I want each of you to remember some food from your childhood, something that has meaning for you. I don't care what that meaning is. But in two weeks, we're having a potluck. Make or buy or somehow procure and bring this dish with you. And be prepared to tell the story of why this particular food is related to a particular memory. It doesn't have to be a traumatic memory. It can be silly, or boring, or relate to a Saturday morning cartoon. I just want it to have some kind of meaning and for you to tell us about it."

With that she closed her notebook. "It's been a pleasure meeting you all and I'm looking forward to our next meeting." She strode from the room.

Thor could already be heard talking to someone else (probably Jane) about this peculiar assignment, so Sitwell gathered up his phone and turned it off. The rest of the Avengers filed out of the conference room, looking puzzled and thoughtful.

"Oh, fuck, now I'm hungry!" Tony whined.

"Yeah, well no shawarma," Steve muttered. "I've had enough of it for a lifetime."

********************************************************************************************************

The following ten days found the Avengers making a tremendous effort to pretend Lowie had not given them this strange assignment. A small mass of sea monsters climbing onto the Staten Island Ferry provided a good excuse for this, at least for a few days.

Four days before the potluck, Steve started looking through used book stores for cookbooks that might have the recipe he needed. Three days before the potluck, Bruce could be heard on the telephone speaking in hushed tones and taking notes that looked like a chemical formula except for the words "baking powder" and "butter."

Two days before the potluck, Clint and Natasha disappeared from Stark Tower for several hours, and returned laden with grocery bags. They successfully locked everyone else out of what was otherwise an open-plan kitchen. The smells that emerged might have been intriguing were it not for the constant buzzing of the fire alarm, followed by one or the other of them on the intercom shouting, "It's okay. We got it under control."

The day before the potluck, Thor left New York entirely, explaining that while what he wanted was available in the city, there were better places to get it. Tony muttered something about lutefisk, but Thor smiled and shook his head. "Delicious though it may be, it is hardly feast fare."

The other Avengers nodded, most of them having determined dodging the lutefisk bullet was more important than finding out what the alternative was to be.

Two and a half hours before the potluck, Tony was called to the delivery ramp to sign for a personal shipment.

The six Avengers arrived at Shield headquarters, each carrying a bag or a box. They entered the conference room, placed their items down, and dropped into chairs.

"From what platters shall we eat and from what vessels shall we drink?" Thor asked in a concerned voice.

Dr. Lowie entered, followed by an embarrassed-looking Shield agent pushing a cart. It was full of plates, cutlery, napkins, and servingware. Behind that agent came another, pushing a beverage service that, but for the lack of alcohol, would have made Tony proud.

When the agents left, Dr. Lowie looked at the various containers and without preamble said, "So who wants to go first?"

There was a short silence as the Avengers exchanged looks. With a sigh, Bruce started to stand up but to everyone's surprise, Natasha held up her hand. "I'll go first," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter before Super Storm Sandy hit the eastern seaboard. Part of my growing up was in Perth Amboy, NJ, within view of Staten Island, NY. I wish the small sea monsters mentioned here were real and had come in place of the storm. I wish the Avengers had been able to defend New York and surrounding areas from the devastation of the storm. I send all those affected by Sandy my hopes and wishes for fast recovery.


	2. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha was a child once. Hard to believe, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

NATASHA'S STORY

"Speaking of my childhood is difficult. I do not remember much of it. This was part of my conditioning. My memories are of classrooms, gymnasiums, shooting range, things most girls don't even imagine at a young age. We spent our days on a tightly regimented schedule and were never given time to enjoy ourselves.

"As we grew older, we began to learn infiltration techniques. For practice, we would sometimes go to social events, assigned to return with a secret from someone selected by our trainer. We usually went out in single sessions, one girl with the trainer. But one time two of us went together.

"It was a midwinter party for the local Party officials. We approached our selected targets and performed as we were trained. We reported back to our trainer and, as usual, revealed our new secrets. From the trainer's reaction, though, it was clear that whatever Yelena had come back with was unexpected and important. Our trainer told us to remain at the party, keeping a low profile, until he returned from relaying this information to his superiors. And then he left.

"What do you expect two teen girls did, left alone at a luxurious holiday party? We loaded plates at the buffet table and found a room where other young people had gathered. There was a movie playing on the tv. It was a silly cop movie out of Hollywood. We had never sat and eaten such delicacies and watched a silly movie just for fun.

"An hour later our trainer returned for us. We went back to our dormitories and our classes and our training to be spies and assassins. But for Yelena and me, we had had our one hour of being just girls. I think it made us stronger.

"Yelena disappeared from Bosnia. I hope she escaped. I hope some western agent met her and saw in her the strength to grow and knew she was a good person."

Every eye in the room turned to Clint, who was studying the ceiling. Natasha's sigh brought their attention back to her.

"I remember every single thing that was on that plate. We learned cooking in our training, both for seduction and for assassination. But food for the sake of simple pleasure was a strange concept, at least until that night. I wish I could claim it was some gourmet delight I remember best, but it was not."

She pulled the wrapping off the plate she had brought with her. "It was some time before I knew the proper name for this. To me it was just fun to eat crisp garlicky potato skins with sour cream and caviar."

The rest of the team sat silently for a few moments, some just getting comfortable with hearing so much legitimate personal information from Natasha. Then Tony reached across to table to snag one of the potato skins. Before he could touch it, Natasha slapped the back of his hand. "We wait," she said. "Everyone tells their story first."

Tony scowled, but acquiesced. He stage whispered to Thor, across the table from him, "I bet she knows how to use the right napkin and fork, too."

Before Thor could reply, Natasha snorted. "I was setting formal tables while I was still toddling, Tony. Before you'd even learned the difference between good scotch and bad vodka."

"Honey, if you're offering to teach me, I can get bottles flown in from anywhere you like. But, lady, we will be eating those potato skins with them. Because, damn."

In the amused silence that followed, Steve stood up. "I'll go next," he offered.

 

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TWICE-BAKED POTATO SKINS, IN THE RUSSIAN STYLE

Serves 6

6 Russet potatoes, scrubbed  
4 tablespoons butter  
2 cloves garlic, minced  
salt and pepper to taste  
1 cup sour cream  
1 tablespoon prepared horseradish  
1 ounce caviar (get the best you can afford)

Bake potatoes at 350°F for 45 minutes or until nearly done. Remove from oven and allow to cool slightly.

Meanwhile, melt the butter in a saucepan, add the garlic and allow to simmer on low for 10 minutes.

Slit potatoes in half, scoop out most of the insides, leaving a quarter inch. (Reserve insides for another use.) Brush potato skins with the garlic butter on the inside, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Return them to the oven for another 20 minutes, still at 350.

Combine sour cream with horseradish and set aside.

Remove potato skins from oven when golden brown. Allow to cool, then top each with a tablespoon of sour cream mixture and a teaspoon of caviar (remember, don't use a silver spoon with caviar!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know caviar is pricey. So don't waste it by putting a silver spoon in it. Pay more for better caviar and use a cheap plastic spoon.
> 
> I am not going to advertise any store but I will say that I found decent yet affordable caviar at a European based furniture store that sells modernistic stuff in flat packs.


	3. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers was (according to Marvel's Wiki) born the same year as my mother. That time is now referred to as The Great Depression. Steve called it the time when he was a kid.
> 
> Parts of this story were spun off from my father's memories of growing up in Brooklyn in that era. I suspect he and Steve and Bucky would have been friends. Although I could see Bucky having an issue with a handsome sailor vying with him for girls...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

STEVE'S STORY

"I don't remember my parents very well. They died when I was barely in my teens. I mostly grew up with Bucky's family. And they were a big family. I guess this was during what you're now calling the Great Depression. That's what it was like, sometimes, greatly depressing. Food was hard to come by at times. And the Barnes family, well, some days food was something we just wished for.

"Ma Barnes did her best with what she could get her hands on. A few things she could always count on, though. There was a greengrocer down the street who would sell old, wilting cabbages two for a penny. It took some work to get to decent leaves and sometimes to feed us all took almost a nickel but she worked at it until there was enough. And Mrs. Bertelli, upstairs, made fresh pasta once a week and gave Ma Barnes her scraps. So at least once a week we were sure to have a hot meal. And if we had some onion scraps, it was a tasty one. And if someone in the neighborhood had some kind of fat to share, it was a really luxurious one by our standards.

"I don't want to say we were dirt poor. I mean, Mr. Barnes had a job, well, most of the time anyway. It was enough to keep a roof over our heads. And all us kids did odd jobs wherever we could to help with other bills. I remember one time, Bucky and I went all the way to Coney Island and offered to fetch drinks and such for the rich folks on the beach. We'd made nearly a dollar each by the time the cops found us and ran us off."

There was a pause and Steve's eyes drifted as he savored the memory.Then, blinking, he continued.

"On the way home we bought butter for Ma Barnes, and some cocoa and some flour and some salt. Bucky had two hot dogs with him. I'm not sure he didn't steal them but I didn't ask. We were kids and we felt like we were rich. We ate like kings the next day, and for a few days after, too."

He pulled the foil off the top of the bowl he had brought. It was starting to chill, so no steam came up from it. "I wanted to make Ma Barnes' chocolate cake. I found a recipe but I'm not so good at baking. So I made her cabbage noodles. It's not bad cold," he said. "Well, we ate it cold when I was a kid. I suspect you folks will want it heated up."

"It can wait for a bit," suggested Dr. Lowie. "We won't be eating until we're all through explaining our contributions. This is not nutritional therapy, after all. It's psychological."

Steve looked uncomfortable. "I don't have to talk about what this makes me feel like or anything like that, do I?" he asked. "Because I've been reading up on this kind of thing and..."

"Oh, shit, no, please don't let's go into feelings," Tony begged. "I've been through that for years. Seriously. Years. I can bring you testimonials from shrinks that will tell you what I've been through and how well I've worked out...for a given meaning of worked out. And Pepper will happily dig out the financials for all the shrinks I've kept in business. I'm famous for my issues, Doc. Infamous. Fabulously famous. I've made headlines with it."

He noticed the room had gone completely still and the rest of the team were staring at him.

"Being in group therapy clearly makes you uncomfortable," Dr. Lowie offered.

"No, actually, he's always like this," Clint said. "I'm just surprised he managed to keep the rambling on one subject other than tech or sex."

"I shall speak next," Thor announced. "For my contribution could well share the table with the bold Captain's."

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FRIED CABBAGE WITH PASTA (serves 4 in 2012, or 12 in 1924)  
There is no hard and fast rule about how this is made. It's generally made with whatever leftover pasta you have, all the cabbage you have, and whatever else sounds good.

2 cups leftover pasta, cooked  
2 tablespoons butter  
1/2 onion, chopped  
1 or 2 cloves of garlic, minced (optional)  
1 head of cabbage, shredded  
salt and pepper to taste  
leftover meat, like 2 hotdogs, cut, sliced, or shredded into bite sized pieces (optional during the Depression)

Heat a pot of water until steaming but not boiling. Dip leftover pasta in it for a few seconds, then drain and place in a bowl until needed.

Heat butter in a wide pan. When melted but not yet browning, throw in onion and garlic if using. When onion has turned translucent (about 3 to 5 minutes depending on your stove) add the garlic. Stir and fry it until soft. You aren't going for crisp tender here but for a bit beyond. It should have more bite than the pasta, but not much more. Add the leftover meat just at the end, then stir in the pasta and heat the whole dish through.

Serve family style because anything else is just ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly did not know this was a Depression era recipe. My mother made it from time to time just because she liked it. She would add corned beef or pastrami, rather than hot dogs. When I looked into recipes of the era for this story I found this and had to immediately call my mother to ask her about it. She didn't realize it was a dish born out of poverty, either. It was just something her mother made once in a while (although being Jewish they left out the butter if using meat.) But she did ask the other people in the home where she lives and more than half of them remembered it as a Depression era invention. So she said she was thrilled to have learned something new.
> 
> Mom doesn't know why I was researching this. She doesn't care for superhero stories so let's not tell her, okay?


	4. Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're the son of the God/King of Asgard, sometimes Grandma's socio-political beliefs invade even the food you eat.
> 
> Not all babies are blue in the face when they are new. But some are.
> 
> Many thanks to my mad Finnish bestie who convinced me that Jansson's Frestelse is a cliche and an acquired taste. I'll be doing that story another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

THOR'S STORY

Thor rose, opened his mouth, seemed to think for a moment, then closed his mouth again. He carefully laid his hammer on the table and started to pace back and forth along the length of the conference room table. Finally he spoke. "Imagine, please, the life of a small child, heir to a great King and warrior. Now imagine awaiting your father's return from war. You neither know nor care whether your father led the aggressors or the defenders. All you know is that he has been away and now he is returning. You sit in the royal quarters with your mother and await news.

"Next comes the news, a herald appears and announces the imminent and triumphant return of the King. Then the herald whispers something to your mother, and she stands up, hand covering her mouth. She turns to you, a small boy as you recall, and says, 'Thor, darling child, please go and wait with your grandmother Bestla in the lower caverns.'

"My grandmother did not fully approve of the formation of Asgard as a military power, so she lived in lower caverns, retaining some of her ancient ways. She loved her sons, but felt it best she remained at some remove from them. But as a boy, I found her endlessly fascinating and loved to visit her. So it was on light feet that I raced to join her. As I departed, my mother added, 'Upon your return, you shall have a baby brother.'"

"Was I happy? Was I excited? Was I enveloped in joy? Perhaps. But I was most of all pleased to be visiting my grandmother, who always had games and tales for me.

"I arrived at Grandmother Bestla's living quarters and announced myself. 'Grandmother, I am sent to you to await my mother's summons once King Odin, my father, has made good his return from the war. I am given to believe he bears gifts.'"

"Seriously? That's how you talked when you were--what, 5?" Tony asked.

"Indeed," Thor replied. "I was raised to someday become King. How else should I have spoken?" He waited, apparently expecting Tony to provide a serious answer.

When Tony shrugged and waved the question away, Thor resumed his pacing and his story.

"Grandmother Bestla was not well pleased by my declaration. 'What gift can war supply for a child?'

"'Twas then I remembered my mother's parting words. 'He has brought me a baby brother!' I told her.

"'Nay, child, a baby brother is by all rights a gift from your mother, never your father, and he is created in love, never in war.'

"I thought hard for what felt like a long period, but was probably only seconds. Time has strange meaning for a child. 'It was my mother who told me I shall have a baby brother. Mayhap it is indeed a gift from her to both my father and me,' I suggested.

"Grandmother Bestla growled quietly, 'No doubt another of Odin's doxies is presenting a new child to the Queen in hopes she will accept and keep him so he shall rise to high office,' but she then smiled at me. 'Grandson, since we shall surely be waiting a time for more news, shall we prepare a feast for your mother and her new charge?'

"Now, you must understand. Cooking with Grandmother Bestla was not a simple matter of beating batter for cakes or softening butter for pastries. When she cooked, it was hearty food, food for giants. So I was not as delighted as most boys would be at the suggestion. But since all the good food, the sweets, would be found in the kitchen, I agreed to the plan.

"Grandmother's kitchen was in the lowest reaches of her cavern. It was lit by her cooking fire only. But it was a fine fire, one that roared at her command. She pulled meats and fish from her cold storage, grains from dry storage, all manner of things from all manner of storage alcoves. Grandmother was cooking as if to feed an army. In retrospect, I realize she was responding to what she saw as bad news. But I was a child and my father was returning victorious from war, and I thought we were preparing a happy feast.

"I do not today recall all the dishes we prepared. But one was special, to me and, as it later transpired, to my family.

"The mouth-watering smell of reindeer that I had brought down on my first hunt, just the winter before, was unforgettable. I had been so proud when I brought Bestla her portion and I verily preened when I realized she was preparing it, so I thought, to honor my parents and new baby brother.

"Of course, in later years I came to realize Grandmother Bestla made that dish with that specific piece of meat to remind my father he had one son and heir already. She feared this new child would bring strife into our lives. She was right, although I do not believe I would wish to trade a moment of growing up with my brother for a more peaceful time. I only wish I had known then why his tiny face was so blue. Mother said it was because he was newborn but had I known the truth, perhaps I could have helped Loki accept his parentage, and learn to live like the Asgardian Prince he was raised to be."

"There it's no earthly way you can get me to eat that," Clint announced, grimacing at the platter in front of Thor. "Ain't gonna eat Bambi in honor of Loki."

Both Thor and Marissa started to explain that this was not in honor of Loki but Steve's question overrode their voices.

"Bambi? You still watch that movie now? It...the kids just loved it when it first came out. Wow!"

A moment of silence was followed by laughter, then followed by clamoring voices full of opinions and, in one case, questions. Thor, who had never heard of Bambi, insisted on watching the movie of that title as soon as possible. Natasha took a slice of meat from the platter and dangled it in front of Clint's eyes as he swatted at it. Bruce gave a detailed description of how he always envied the relationship between Bambi the baby deer and Thumper the baby rabbit .This prompted Thor to explain how his grandmother had prepared roast rabbit. The conversation seemed mildly chaotic. No one seemed to notice that Clint had grabbed the meat from Natasha and eaten it, licking his fingers and grinning maniacally.

Tony, who had been silently typing on his Starkpad, spoke in his best "bring the meeting back on track" voice. (No one believed him capable of staying on track himself, much less corralling others, so the voice was doubly effective. Even Pepper could be silenced by it sometimes.) He turned in his seat and looked at Thor. "ANOTHER of your father's, what'd Grandma call them, doxies? Exactly how much fooling around are we talking about?"

"Do not speak so disrespectfully of my father and my king!" Thor spoke forcefully and all eyes turned to be sure he wasn't reaching for the hammer.

"No disrespect to your dad," Tony said quickly. "I totally, totally respect a man who has doxies. The more the merrier. Not that I, myself, have doxies. Not anymore. I am a one-woman man, I'll have you all know. But, and this is my point, Thor, do we need to do like a DNA test on you? Because Grandma seems to ..."

"Enough!" Thor said it clearly but not angrily. "My uncles are all of one mother, but of many fathers. There is no shame attached in Asgard to what you and Grandmother Bestla imply. As for me, I care not who bore me so much as I care for she who held me and nurtured me* and taught me love and compassion. Frigga is my mother no matter from what womb I sprang."

Tony gaped at Thor for a moment, then turned to Marissa. "This man does not need to be here. He is so well-adjusted he makes my cars sound off their timing. If I didn't cherish my neuroses so much I might even be jealous. But I do and I'm not."

Marissa's reply that Tony was missing the point of group therapy and asking why he reacted so strongly to Thor's apparent self-comfort was lost behind Clint's relieved sounding, "So does this mean I don't have to eat Bambi? Please tell me I don't have to eat Bambi." Natasha slapped him gently on the back of his head.

Bruce added, "Comet, Cupid, something and Blitzen. Way to fuck up our childhood Christmas fantasies, Thor!"

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Finnish Sautéed Reindeer (Poronkäristys)  
6 servings

2 pounds sliced reindeer  
2 Tb butter  
1 cup beer  
2 small onions  
1 1/2 tsp salt  
3 tbs flour  
1/2 tsp ground black or white pepper

Brown the sliced reindeer meat and chopped onions in butter, preferably in a cast iron casserole pot. Season the meat with salt and pepper and add the flour, stir. Add the beer and stir again. Place the lid on top of the pot and allow to simmer at a low heat for approximately one hour. Serve over with mashed rutabaga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In Norse mythology, Thor is the son of Odin and a Frost Giant. The logistics kind of frighten me.


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has nothing to do with Marissa's plans for their potluck. But since I brought it up I felt it needed to be addressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a fixit. This is an alreadyfixed. 
> 
> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

INTERLUDE

When Thor finally sat down, having reclaimed his hammer, there was a brief lull. Marissa opened her mouth to fill it, but was forestalled when Clint stood up.

He loped toward the door, then slouched against it. For a moment, the rest of the team wondered if he were considering them hostages. Then Natasha asked, “Something going on out there, Clint?”

He nodded tightly and tapped his right ear. In a soft voice he said, “Turned up the gain a bit. There’s something coming. Sounds almost mechanical. Around the corner, by the snack machine alcove right now.”

Steve tilted his head in the direction of the door and nodded. “I hear it. And may I just say, whatever has your hearing amped up is pretty darn impressive?”

Tony beamed. “Stark Medical. Hearing aids customized to individual needs. Didn’t think about it as spy gear until now. Christ, we do miniaturizing well. I didn’t even see them 'til you tapped the gain code.”

“Not spy gear,” Clint said so quietly only Steve did not feel the urge to lean forward to hear better. “Okay, SHIELD issue. So I guess they are spy gear now.” In response to a raised eyebrow from Tony he added, "Fifty percent hearing loss. Long time ago. These things are great, Tony. Way better than what I used to have."

“Get ready,” Steve muttered. “Whatever it is, it’s about here.”

Clint moved carefully to the side, and glanced out through the small window in the side of the door. His body visibly relaxed and he touched his ear again. “Not hostile,” he drawled in a more natural voice. He opened the door a crack and addressed whoever was outside. “You coming in?”

The reply was muffled by the door being mostly closed, but Clint nodded, apparently satisfied. He opened the door fully. A wheelchair slid into view, the occupant buried in blankets. From the back of the chair rose an IV pole and hook. The bag on the hook was connected via clear tubing to the chair’s passenger. A medic in SHIELD Medical whites was pushing the chair.

“Hey,” croaked Agent Phil Coulson from deep within the folds of the blankets. “Sorry to interrupt but Director Fury seems to think you need to see me with your own eyes.”

His words were greeted with a solid wall of silence. Five pairs of eyes were fixed on him. Clint scanned the room, caught Natasha’s eye and winked. She relaxed and said, “Are you here to send us out again, Agent Coulson, or is this a social call?”

This broke the shock and for a few seconds a babble of voices asked about his condition, cursing Director Fury for lying to them about it, and demanding that the medical equipment in use be upgraded immediately. The last was from Tony, who immediately pulled out a digital sketchpad and started scribbling furiously.

The medic cleared her throat. “Agent Coulson needs to return to Medical,” she informed them. “Today is his first day out of intensive care. He insisted on seeing you as soon as possible. He’s done that, and now he needs to get back. You can visit him starting tomorrow, schedule is in the database.” She started to turn the chair around.

“Hang on,” Tony said. He scooted his chair over to Coulson.

“If you damage the floor you’ll be getting a bill from SHIELD,” Coulson remarked, a trace of his usual dry humor evident.

“If I damage the floor, SHIELD needs new floors,” Tony snapped. “I’ll prepare an estimate. Meanwhile, I need to know what’s in that bag, what your mobility limitations are, how fast they expect you to be walking…”

“You’re not building me a suit, Stark.” Coulson was grinning now. “If you’re redesigning the IV, talk to Medical. I am going back to bed.” When Tony continued to examine the wheelchair and IV pole, he repeated. “Back. To. Bed.”

In punctuation, the medic pulled the chair back. Tony tried to follow, but Clint, who was closest to him, grabbed the back of his chair. “The Son of Coul does not wish you to bother him further, friend Tony,” Thor said in his most imperious voice.

Tony turned his eyes to the ceiling, but stood and dragged his chair back to the table. Glancing at the floor, he mumbled something about it being a serious estimate. He reseated himself at the table and turned to glare at Thor, who smiled gently at him. Tony slumped down in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, lips moving as he apparently continued his one-sided discussion with himself.

Clint closed the door and slouched back against it. “I’m up so I might as well go next,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to put a recipe for some kind of hospital food in here but even in honor of Agent Coulson I couldn't bring myself to do it.


	6. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up in the circus spoiled Clint for Thanksgiving in Nicaragua. In a roundabout way, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

CLINT'S STORY

“I think I know what most of you are expecting,” Clint began. “You know I come from Iowa, and some of you know I deliberately chose to grow up in a circus. Circus. Not fucked-up household. I left the fucked-up household when I was, well, pretty young. Joining the circus was an improvement. Anyhow, I had a good eye and good aim and a couple of guys decided to train me to use them. One of them was a bowman.

"We shot a lot of targets, yeah. And we took shots at pigeons and stuff like that. But in the fall, about a year after I started working with him, one of the guys decided to take me bow hunting.

"Bow hunting is a whole different world than target shooting. It's different from assassination, too. Your prey is faster than any human can hope to be, and half the time it's genetically inclined to blend into the background. We had nothing with us but our backpacks, our bows and our ammunition, and a couple of trail bars just in case we didn't bag anything.

"Did I mention this was the first time I ever hunted, bow or otherwise? Okay, keep that in mind, because this part of the story is kind of embarrassing."

"You didn't hit a damn thing?" Bruce suggested, an eyebrow raised. "The great Hawkeye was a kid once and had to learn the hard way?"

Clint blushed. In fact, he blushed so red it required a comment from Natasha. "That, Bruce, was the best thing today. Thank you."

Clint turned a glare to her but she smiled back in what seemed an almost intimate manner. That made him blush even redder. Tony burst out in laughter, almost immediately joined by Thor. Bruce dissolved into giggles and only Steve remained unamused.

"What?" Steve asked. "What am I missing here? You folks have got to stop leaving me in your cultural dust!"

Clint turned his glare on Steve. Light seemed to come on in Steve's face. "Oh. OH! Oh, gosh, Clint, I'm sorry, that's not something we should be laughing about, is it?"

Unable to stop himself, Clint broke into a hearty laugh. "Shit, Cap! I keep forgetting you embarrass easier than I do."

"Okay, we all get the double entendre now," Marissa said, trying to bring the session back on track.

"Getting it isn't the point," Tony sputtered. "Man, I am SO finding out the story behind this."

"Not while there is breath in your body," Natasha said coolly, and the laughter started again.

Thor reached out a hand toward Clint. "Friend archer, know that even in Asgard, this would be an amusing tale."

"I am not at all sure I feel better," Clint observed. He hooked an empty chair and dropped into it. "So, yeah, this was supposed to be about me and Trickshot's great bow hunting expedition. When I was THIRTEEN." He stared at the rest of the team as if daring them to comment. They all clamped their lips shut, Bruce going so far as to mime a zipper holding his closed.

"Anyhow, we had the trail bars, and Buck - Trickshot as you know him - was pretty good at identifying edible plants. Which was good because over the course of two days I bagged..." He started to count on his fingers. "Three squirrels. One raccoon, but I found out when I tried to pick him up that I hadn't finished the job. Luckily, he wasn't rabid. Anyhow, I winged a skunk and the less said about that the better. There were a couple of things I didn't recognize, and a lizard that had no business being in a Michigan forest in the fall. I scared off a dozen or more birds, including some crows that were trying to snack on the raccoon...." He trailed off when he saw Steve staring at him open-mouthed. "What? Don't tell me you want to avenge the lizard because, damn, Cap, that thing was..."

"No, but Clint, first bowhunt and you killed three squirrels? Look, I know I'm a city boy, but we know squirrels. And I knew slingshots. And I knew Bucky was a crack shot with one and in all his life he only ever hit one squirrel. They're fast, they're small, and you hit three dead on, your first time out? Stop being embarrassed!"

"You are one weird dude," Clint said. "But I'll take the compliment. Anyway, I didn't get us anything edible all weekend. I guess I was still learning the whole stealthy thing. So we headed back to town.

"We were hungry and must have looked a sight, too. There was a diner in the town where we'd left the truck, and it looked like a lot of hunters were in there, so we gave it a try.

"One of the other hunters saw us coming in and obviously decided we were a father and son. They welcomed us like we were family, and I got to tell the story of the raccoon.

"They had something on the menu called Green Bean Casserole Now, remember, I had a family life that consisted mainly of forgetting I had a family, then a life in a home where we ate whatever they ate at the closest prison. We used to joke that we got what the convicts rejected. I'm not sure we were entirely wrong. After that, living and traveling with a circus, well, Thanksgiving was like any other day except we'd do two shows. So Green Bean Casserole was just something we'd see on billboards in the fall. I got real excited and asked the poor lady about a million questions about how it's made. She got me a plateful, no charge because it was late and they were going to close and have to throw it to the hogs later anyway. Um...yeah, the diner had a hog farm out back. It was that kind of a town.

"The stuff was amazing. I couldn't get enough of it. The grownups just stared at me, I swear they stopped talking and just watched me eat. I got seconds and then realized we had a trip ahead of us, so I asked if I could get it put into a container to take with me. The waitress gave me a gallon container of it. She said it was all they had left. I guess the diner was famous throughout the region for the stuff.

"I was thrilled. I'd finally gotten to try the famous Green Bean Casserole I'd been seeing on billboards for years, something normal families ate at Thanksgiving. I could not wait to get back home, you know, to the circus, to show it off.

"A couple of the other hunters walked us out to the truck. As I climbed in, one of them said, 'Son, you come back next season, you and your dad. And don't ever forget Dolores' green beans because when you finally eat the ones from that ad, you are going to be so sad!"

"I didn't understand that until years later. It was on an undercover job and we were posing as stranded travelers. Remember this one, Nat? Managua? When we were stranded missionaries?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Managua? You remember the food from Managua? Six different rebel groups were firing on us all the time and you remember the food?"

"It was Thanksgiving and that Peace Corps couple took us in and hid us for a few days. And they made what they called real Green Bean Casserole. And, Nat, that was not Green Bean Casserole, not like I remembered it."

"This explains so much about our relationship," Natasha said. "They thought we were being fired on for religious reasons. You know if they'd found out we were there to bring Cortez-Amarillo in dead or alive, the story would have ended very differently."

"Good thing we could both quote Bible verses with straight faces, then," Clint retorted and the two shared a smile.

"Um, we were discussing your hunting trip?" Marissa interrupted.

"Yeah, well, that's about it," Clint said. "I brought the container back and we ate it cold the next day. It was still amazing. Over the next couple of years I got to be a better bowhunter than Trickshot and we never had to stop at any diners on the way home. Which, well, probably suited him just fine since nine times out of ten he was in the middle of some extortion or another and chancing upon the sheriff would have fucked up his day. But, still, for me it was a fantastic time. First time I ever felt like I was just one of the normal people.

"I mean, in the circus, we felt like family, like we all belonged. But we knew we were essentially freaks. And here, with SHIELD, I know I belong, I know I'm part something bigger and people accept me. Same with you all, with the Avengers. But we all know we're something different. Something better, maybe, or more secret, or whatever, we stand together but apart from everyone else. But in that diner, with all those guys laughing with us about the raccoon biting me and the waitress feeding me and all, I was just one of the normal people. At thirteen, it meant a lot."

"You are coming dangerously close to discussing feelings," Tony warned.

Clint continued as if Tony had not spoken. "A couple of years ago I found out the diner had had to close because of the economy. That waitress had a stroke and her husband had a heart attack and now he's dead and she's bed-ridden. Her daughter and son-in-law had both lost their jobs in Lansing and were living with her, taking care of her. I suggested that SHIELD could use a listening post that close to Toronto. So, the diner's back and one of these days I want to go visit again. But in the meantime, I got their recipe."

He pushed a large casserole dish into the center of the table and pulled off the foil wrapping it. "I know you won't believe me, but it's true. The diner's name was Hawk's Rest."

Clint slouched back in his chair and looked around the room. "Next?" he prompted. "Stark? You gonna tell us how you invented cottage cheese or something?"

Tony let his sunglasses slide down his nose and he stared at Clint. The other man pulled a pair of his own sunglasses out, and put them on in the same position. They stared at one another for a few moments, then Marissa cleared her throat.

"I think we're experiencing some hostility, gentlemen. That wasn't the point today. We were supposed to be..."

"Getting in touch with our inner child, I get it," Tony said, not breaking his stare.

"No, not at all, that isn't what..."

"We're supposed to open up our feelings and share and team-build and shit," Clint suggested, equally unblinking.

"No, no, this has nothing to do with...Mr. Stark, Mr. Barton, you're behaving like...."

"Children?" Bruce suggested. "Doctor Lowie, come on, you asked for this. Well, to be honest, you have Tony Stark in the room so it's inevitable, but still..."

"Fair Doctor," Thor said over their heads. "I have seen them perform thus before. It appears to give them both great pleasure. I do not believe they are misbehaving so much as enjoying one another's company."

Natasha reached into a pocket and withdrew a five dollar bill. She threw it on the table and said, "On Clint."

Steve frowned. "Is gambling appropriate for this..." but broke off his objection when Bruce threw in his own bill and said, "Tony."

Steve sighed, threw down a five and said, "Tony."

Thor, lacking pockets, said, "I shall have to make this a promissory wager. On friend Hawkeye."

Tony, not breaking his stare, grabbed a bill from his pocket and threw it down. "Whatever that is on Barton."

Clint blinked. "Wait, what? You just put down..." he glanced at the table. "You just bet a hundred on me to win?"

"Made you blink," Tony said, smiling. He stood up. "Okay, kids, let's get mine over with."

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Hawk's Rest Green Bean Casserole  
Serves 4, or one if it's Hawkeye

2 cups small pasta, cooked  
16 ounces frozen green beans  
Salt and pepper to taste  
1/2 cup chicken or vegetable broth  
1/4 cup dehydrated onions  
1 tablespoon dehydrated garlic  
1/2 to 3/4 cup dried mushrooms  
1 tablespoon dehydrated parsley  
1-1/2 cups sour cream  
1 large egg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Combine pasta and thawed green beans in greased casserole dish. Season with salt and pepper if desired. In another bowl, combine dehydrated and dried ingredients with the broth and leave it to sit for a quarter hour or so until softened. Add sour cream and mix thoroughly. Add the egg and combine well. Pour sour cream mixture over pasta and green beans. Cover with foil and bake 20 minutes. Pull off foil and bake an additional 15 to 20 minutes or until custard is set.


	7. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and eating, not always best friends. Smoothies, yeah, he's good with them. But solid food? Sometimes a little hard to get them into the same room.
> 
> Also please go here http://archiveofourown.org/works/515016/chapters/908880 and read the story that convinced me Steve and Darcy belong together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

TONY'S STORY

Tony pushed his chair back from the table and one after the other put his feet up. He tilted his chair back, carefully, until it hit the wall behind him. He pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket. Then, arms once again folded across his chest, he began his story.

"You've all met my man Happy, right? Some of you have met him more than others. I mean, Natasha, Natalie, whatever your name was then, you made an impression on him. And I mean an impression. He still talks about the visit to Hammer's little secret lab.

"Have you ever wondered why I have in my small group of close friends a thickheaded boxer? I mean, I could have anyone around me. I have the guy who should be running all of America's defenses. I have Pepper Potts and need I say more? Okay, I could go on because she's not only brilliant and amazing and tolerant and weirdly friends with Coulson...she's stunning and gorgeous and sexy and..."

"Thanks, Tony, we get it," Steve said drily.

"You're just jealous you don't have a Pepper of your own," Tony said, but his voice held no rancor. "But to continue. I have these two people who are brilliant and exceptional and did I mention how sexy Pepper is? Oh, yeah, well, that goes without saying. But then there's Happy. A second-string boxer. Oh, come ON, your SHIELD geniuses didn't do a full profile on my friends and employees? Seriously? No one knows? You're lying. I can tell you're lying because you're talking. Well, right now you're not talking. But I know you all know..."

Natasha sighed. "Fine. Harold Joseph 'Happy' Hogan, formerly considered an up and coming boxer until he got hit by a motorcycle and spent time in rehab for a torn up right arm. When he left the rehab center, he learned that no one considered him worth anything in the ring. He went to work as a bodyguard for some wealthy businessmen. Sometime in the course of his work, he discovered they were planning to do something to bring down the Stark empire. All we have on file is that he believed their plans were wrong, that they were too personal, and that they involved inappropriately harming the innocent. He went to Howard Stark's security service and told what he knew. As a result, the threat was neutralized and Stark, actually Maria Stark, hired him as part of the family's security detail. For some reason he bonded with teenaged Anthony Edward Stark, who had maybe six times Hogan's IQ and about a tenth his maturity. I could go on because your man has a file here, and you know why."

Tony blew a loud raspberry at Natasha and took over the story. "Well, turns out the dastardly deed meant to bring down dear old dad involved kidnapping me to blackmail him and then offing me in a big, public way and blaming my family for it. So, y'know, Happy did us a big favor. Me, personally, he did me a huge favor.

"When I went off to MIT, I had my own security detail. I built some pretty smokin' stuff back then. I mean, I built my first fully functional robot when I was ten, but at fourteen, at MIT, I had access to these labs and workshops like my dad's, the ones he wouldn't let me near. I mean, my workshop? The one I let most of you wander into at will? Daddy dearest kept his locked. He had one friend, who turned out to be a murderous thug, by the way, thanks, Dad, for not passing your bad taste in friends on to me. Only person he allowed in was that one guy. Little kid Tony? Nah, got my own workshop. Dad came and went in my workshop whenever, but do you think I ever, EVER, got to play with real equipment? Nope, not till I got to MIT. Where I spent far too much time building things. No one dared grade me down for it because, come on, I was their best hope for cold fusion and artificial intelligence. Speaking of which, JARVIS? Totally based on a design I cooked up at MIT. So, back to Happy. He was a pretty UNhappy guy back then. He'd lost any chance of a boxing title or even a professional match. He'd lost the best bodyguarding gig he could find because he's innately honest. He got a better gig, but then my mother decided he needed to be the head of her admittedly annoying teenage son's security detail.

"But Happy, he genuinely liked me. Only, he wasn't called Happy yet. I named him that because he started to get really unhappy about me not eating. You all know I get that way when I'm working. And I didn't want him to get in trouble with, oh, Mom. So to appease him I'd eat more and say, 'there, are you happy?'

"He even tried to have my favorite pizza flown in from New York. He rushed the pizza back from the airport as fast as he could. But, no matter how fast he drove, that pizza was cold.

"So we tried to find someplace near Cambridge with good New York style pizza. Okay, yeah, Pinocchio's is considered awesome and all the Harvard types gobble it down but it wasn't New York Pizza. And, you know, there were jerks from Harvard in there. Happy was my friend. I couldn't subject him to that."

Bruce glanced over at Tony. "I might take that personally," he said, with a grin. "But since there is no longer any chance of an MIT weather balloon interfering with the Harvard-Yale game* I'll let it go. This time."

"It is ON, my friend!" Tony replied. "Because I'm about to get to the part of the story where a school with a REAL football team comes into the picture.

"Turned out Happy had a girlfriend who went to Boston University. She was working for this pizza place near her dorm and he was hanging out there a lot on his down time. One day he got this stupid-ass idea that I needed to meet his girlfriend and approve of her. Okay, here I am, what, sixteen? Fifteen, maybe. I was fourteen when I got there but then I had a birthday so I'm pretty sure I was more than fourteen. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Happy's girlfriend the pizza girl.

"Her name was April. It still is. She's still his girlfriend. Okay, she's his girlfriend again. She's like..."

"APRIL COPLEY!" Natasha shouted. Then she glanced around the room, a little embarrassed. "Sorry. But she's a SHIELD administrator and we all know she's dating Happy again. She used to talk about how her old boyfriend worked for the Stark family and, please, may Clint and I be excused for the next hour while Tony tells this story? Because we've heard it from her enough."

"Really??" Tony looked uncharacteristically astonished. "She really did stay loyal to him that long? Because, honest, I never thought she would. I mean, I felt kinda bad dragging him back to New York with me and I kinda hoped they'd keep up the long distance thing cause they were so cute together. But she really waited for him? I thought she went to Switzerland or something."

Clint dropped his head onto his arms on the table. "Wake me up when you're done, Stark!" he said.

"Okay, so back to the story. Happy drags me out to this pizza place on his night off. So there's me, my bodyguard and his relief bodyguard, with an armed driver in an armored Mercedes because no one was letting me out in a beater no matter how I souped it up myself. And we drive up to this little joint on Comm Ave called - get this - T Anthony's. And there's this cute little girl half Happy's height who is clearly in love with him. Not even interested in the brilliant teenaged heir to a fortune larger than most first world's national budgets. Said hi and treated me like her boyfriend's cute little brother almost. Like I was being dragged along on her date with her big boyfriend because they couldn't find a babysitter.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy eating pizza in my life. It's like...yeah, Clint describing the hunters in the diner. It was like being normal. Okay, normal with two armed guys on either side of me and an armed driver waiting for me in the fancy car, but I could ignore her. And Happy wasn't just a guy with a gun. He was, kinda, like my big brother.

"And the pizza! Wow, almost like what I grew up with. Almost. I mean, seriously, what is with eggplant on pizza? Is that a Boston thing because it's fucking bizarre. On a sub, sure. I got totally hooked on eggplant subs. But who the hell puts it on a pizza?

"But Mr. Couldn't-Kill-A Skunk's loud faked snores tell me I've digressed."

Clint, head still on the table with eyes closed, nodded. Tony continued.

"The place delivers, but Happy says to April, 'Honey...you know, we keep late hours. How about you bring a pizza by after your shift every once in a while?' And sure enough, twice a week, that April, she showed up with a couple of pizzas and sometimes a dvd and there we were, like a normal family watching a movie and eating pizza.

"Last week I had a pizza oven installed in the tower. April managed to get the recipe from her old boss, or maybe she got some spy to steal it. Either of you been to Boston lately?" He glanced at Natasha and Clint who ignored him..

"I felt it would be cheating to just bring the pizza, since my favorite has toppings not everyone would like. So while I chow down on a Tony Stark special, which is jalapeno, garlic, and sausage, I have a little portable version of the pizza oven with me and I will make each of you your own pizza. Mind you, I did not make the dough, that was Happy. He says I distract too easily to be trusted with a yeast dough."

"Ya think?" Clint snorted. "Tell me the last thing you were talking about before you got off on the April tangent."

"Football," Tony snapped. "And how MIT once exploded a weather balloon on the field during a Harvard-Yale game. And how MIT will always dominate in the world of sports prankery. Because..."

"Because they can't get decent players without adjusting academic requirements?" Bruce suggested.

"That's not a bad thing," Tony replied.

"Is there no one on this world who excels at both wisdom and physical prowess?" Thor interjected. "I cannot believe that."

"Thor, I've heard about Volstagg," Clint said, head still on the table. "Coulson said he looked like all stomach and fight, no brain. And, you know, some of us have met your beloved Jane."

"And Darcy," Steve added. When everyone turned to him he said, "Wait. No. No, nothing like that. I mean, she's not Thor's beloved Darcy. And...no, not mine either. She's just...she's Darcy. I've met her. She sometimes worked for Coulson. Works. Will work. Something like that."

"Double everything on Cap's pizza?" Tony suggested.

Tony pulled out yet another electronic pad device, leading Natasha to speculate aloud where he might be hiding them on his person. He stood, wiggled beside her, and said, "Care to frisk me? I promise not to tell Pepper."

"She will know," Natasha pointed out. "Because I will most certainly tell her. Besides, I'll ask her where you keep them."

Tony pouted but it didn't last long because he remembered why he'd pulled out the pad. "Okay, everyone put your orders on here. I'll start the machinery up when we're ready to start. I mean, it's not like it'll take all that long. I designed the system."

He passed the pad to Natasha who scribbled something, then passed it to Clint. While the group pondered pizza, the room was silent. Thor did whisper a question to Steve, but the answer was quiet and apparently short. The pad came back to Tony who scrolled through the orders, stopped at one and said, "Thor. Really? Anchovies?"

"I wished for potatoes as well but they were not on offer," Thor said. "It is another dish from my childhood, creamy potatoes with anchovies."

"I don't want to know." Tony shook his head and scrolled further up. "Bruce? Nothing on it? Plain cheese? Really? Not...I dunno, artichokes or broccoli or something? I mean, yeah, vegetarian and all that, but..."

"I don't like anything on my pizza," Bruce said flatly. "In fact, I don't much like pizza. It brings back...some really bad memories for me. Do you mind if I skip it?"

"No, not at all, Harvard. I can get you something else if you want."

"No, Tony, it's okay. I just...don't want pizza." Bruce turned away and stared at the wall behind Thor's head.

Tony exchanged a worried glance with Steve, then glanced down to see that Natasha looked concerned as well. Marissa had turned to Bruce as if to address him but Tony spoke first.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay. We all have shit like that. We get it."

"No, you don't," Bruce said. "Sorry, but you really, really don't."

"Why don't you tell us, then?" Marissa suggested softly.

"Um, ma'am, no offense. I'm sure you're well-educated and good at your job, but did you notice that you were asking a man who turns green and violent when upset to talk about something he doesn't even want to think about?" Steve tried to sound casual but it was obvious from his tone that he was worried.

"It's okay," Bruce said. "It's kind of related to the dessert I brought.

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TONY'S PIZZA  
There is no recipe for this pizza because it would be wrong to try to replicate a restaurant pizza without proper equipment. If you're ever in Boston, try T. Anthony (http://www.tanthonypizzeria.com/) at 1016 Commonwealth Ave, about a block away from Boston University's Nickerson Field. Tell them April sent you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *True story. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLg2XpY0L3w&noredirect=1 I can't find Tony in the video, possibly because he wasn't much of a joiner.
> 
> Sadly, the pizza place I wanted to use for this story is no longer in business. I lived at 700 Commonwealth Ave when I attended Boston University and Sunday nights would find my roommate and me at an Italian place on our end of campus. All the New Yorkers agreed it was good pizza. (Neither Sue nor I being from New York, we took their word for it.) And MIT boys would sometimes show up, trolling for BU girls (on the assumption we were easy, I'm guessing.) But it closed sometime after 197--erm, a while back after I had left Boston and before Tony got there. I'm basing my recommendation of T. Anthony on rave reviews from various websites.


	8. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wonder what The Other Guy is always mad at? It's got nothing to do with hating broccoli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

BRUCE'S STORY

"My father was...a little violent," he began. "He wasn't stupid, not at all. He was brilliant. Might have been Tony brilliant if he hadn't been insane."

"Um, some might argue that Tony's insane," Clint suggested but when Natasha poked his side he jumped, slid further down in his chair, and remained silent.

Bruce smiled thinly. "No, no, Tony is eccentric. He's a little nuts. He's something of a sociopath. But he's not insane."

Tony preened and straightened his jacket out a bit. Bruce rolled his eyes but continued.

"It's public record what happened. I'm amazed none of our SHIELD people has mentioned it yet." He stared at Natasha, who looked away.

"It's not my place to reveal your secrets," she said quietly.

Bruce nodded. "So, anyway, anyone who really wants to know what the Other Guy started out angry at, if you want to know why I'm always, always angry even when my eyes aren't turning green, you can find out without asking me. But none of you has, and I think I realize now how much I appreciated you leaving me alone. Even Natasha. Especially Natasha.

"My father was involved in nuclear research and thought he'd gotten too high a dose to safely father a child. Could be he was right. But my mother got pregnant anyway. He blamed her, then me, because he was sure I was a mutant. He started drinking. Then he..."

"We can guess the rest, buddy," Tony said. "Don't relive it just for the sake of a story."

His hands hidden under the table, Tony was texting someone from his phone. Bruce glanced at him but if he noticed the action, he didn't mention it. He continued after taking a deep breath.

"It's also a matter of public record how my mother died. Was killed. I saw it, you know."

"Bruce, pal, please, we're not voyeurs, we don't need to know..."

Bruce said, a smirk on his face, "Tony Stark, you are a major voyeur. But not about this. Thanks, I'll know when to stop, but thanks for reminding me it's safe. Anyhow, my father told me that if I ever told, if he were taken away, I'd have to live in a cave and be eaten by bears. And I believed him. Don't laugh. I was eight."

"No one's laughing," Clint said carefully. "Been right where you were. It ain't funny."

All eyes turned to Clint, "Ain't gonna talk about it. My turn's up. But why do you think Barney and I were in a home in the first place?" He stared at the table and said no more. After a few moments, eyes returned to Bruce.

"Look, I'm not going to give you the whole story. It's...the Other Guy hates it. I spent years terrified of my own shadow. But there was this one day when I was nine that was a moment of pure joy. My aunt took me in after my father was...gone. And it was my birthday. She asked around for what parents were supposed to do for the kid's birthday. She made me cupcakes. She was the worst baker ever then. Never baked a thing in her life. She made them from a mix and bought a tub of frosting and any of you would probably have been embarrassed to be seen with them. But I was so excited. Someone had made me cupcakes to take to school for my birthday.

"The rest of the class ate the cupcakes because, hey, sugar. At nine that's the most important thing. But Susan felt bad so when I turned ten she had taught herself how to bake and she made the best, BEST cupcakes ever. I still make them, sometimes, when the Other Guy is grumbling. They're just so good, unexpected, but good. They have all these spices and are so...well, they're good. They were the best thing ever. That was my period of peace and they will always make me feel peaceful."

He stared at the table, then closed his eyes. After a moment, he drew a shaky breath. Tony said, "Yo, buddy. Do you need to take a walk or something? Cold water? Anything?"

For a moment Bruce seemed to sneer, then he suddenly turned to Tony, looking surprised. "You, you're really not scared of me, are you?"

"No." Tony shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I'm a little worried for the structural safety of the building sometimes. Still, you're my friend and the Other Guy saved my life so, no, I'm not scared."

"I'm not, either," Natasha said quickly. "Once the Other Guy realized I wasn't a threat to either of you, I feel like you're both my friends."

"I'm not scared of you," Steve said. "I mean, yeah, you're bigger and stronger than I am when you're green, but you know me and we respect each other. I know the Other Guy has a beef with Thor, but..."

"Nah," Bruce smiled broadly. "The Other Guy started out resenting the puny hammer that could hold him down, but punching Thor is a matter of pride with him now. Ever since he apparently defeated Loki singlehandedly, punching gods is like a fun game to him."

Thor looked startled. "I knew your alter ego was powerful but I did not realize he could defeat a warrior trained as Loki was. I confess, I gave little thought to how Loki was subdued and he never spoke of it. You are indeed powerful, friend Bruce, and I shall respect your alter ego the more for his great strength and battle acumen."

"I don't think you can call it battle acumen," Bruce said thoughtfully. "He just likes to smash things and when he knows what to smash he goes after it with enthusiasm."

"Well, I'm fucking terrified of you, man," Clint said. When everyone seemed startled by his statement, he continued, "You have a mind that can rival Tony Stark in terms of scientific knowledge and creativity, you have ten times the personality of Reed Richards - perhaps the only other scientist who comes close to you except maybe Jane Foster and Erik Selvig but they're SHIELD now so don't count." Seeing the confusion on the others' faces he explained, "They're on payroll. But, Bruce, you have all that and in a fight you make the rest of us look like little flies. I can handle that. Good to have an awesome hitter like you on our side. But that brain of yours? Scares the fuck out of me."

"And mine doesn't?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, but you're an asshole so I can balance that out. Bruce is a nice guy."

It looked as though Tony was about to rise to the insult, but the big smile on Clint's face showed genuine fondness for him. "You are such a jerk," Tony snorted.

"Yeah, yeah, I am," Clint admitted, and the two men laughed.

"Can we get back to Bruce?" Marissa suggested.

"Can we not?" Bruce requested.

"I sense you have more to say."

Before Bruce could reply, Tony snapped, "He'll say it when AND IF he chooses." The rest of the team nodded.

Bruce pushed the plate of cupcakes into the center of the table. " I may need to start making these more often. It doesn't calm the Other Guy down enough to turn back into, well, me. But he loves them and will probably calm down a bit if offered one. Or, um, more."

The rest of the team digested the information. Marissa said, "Well, I guess that's about all we're going to make you go through. How about you start reheating what needs reheating; microwave is back in the supply alcove. And dig in. I'm done here, and if we need more sessions I'll be sure to have someone get in touch with you."

"Wait...that was it?" Steve asked. "Just, a potluck lunch? Is that all this group therapy thing is going to be?"

"Pretty much, yup," Marissa said. She gathered all her papers together into her briefcase and strode from the room.

"That was disturbing," Tony said. "Anyone else find that disturbing?"

"Yeah, but I'm not complaining," Clint replied. "I really don't want to spend another day cooped up in this room and I'm starving! Race ya for the microwave, Cap."

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Aunt Susan's Five Spice Cupcakes  
Makes 12 (which even Hulk can't eat all of in one sitting)

1 stick (4 oz) butter or margarine, softened  
1/2 cup brown sugar  
1/2 cup white sugar  
1 large egg  
2 tablespoons Chinese Five Spice Powder  
1 tablespoon baking powder  
2 cups flour  
1 1/2 cups milk or soy milk (can substitute cold coffee for up to half)

Preheat oven to 350F.

In mixing bowl combine butter and sugars with hand mixer until fluffy. Add egg and continue mixing. In another bowl, mix together spice powder, baking powder, and flour. Add to egg and butter mixture in half cup measures, alternating with the milk and coffee if using.

When batter is smooth, pour into cups in a lined muffin/cupcake tin and bake for 18 to 23 minutes or until a toothpick stuck into one comes back clean.

Frost with a cream cheese or buttercream frosting of your choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving credit where it is due, I invented this recipe to test Michael Ruhlman's ratio (in the book of that name) for muffins. It worked. I will probably figure out a unique frosting for it someday but for the time being I'm using plain buttercream (several friends suggested Caramel Buttercream but I haven't tried it yet.) I've had cream cheese frosting on spice cakes and it was good so I strongly suspect it'll work here.


	9. Afterward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think that was ALL there was to it, did you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and warmth to my beta, Neifile7. Bestest Betahr EVAH!
> 
> Attention Marvel and Disney. This is a work of love. I intend no disrespect and I am making no money. I acknowledge your ownership of all my playthings and have returned them unharmed. Please don't send the Deathstar after me.

Across the building, in a large glass-walled office, Dr. Marissa Lowie sat in a comfortable guest chair facing Director Nick Fury (Jr) across his desk.

"Nothing?" Fury asked, sounding a little put-upon. "No recommendation? Nothing? Just, let them go about their business?"

"Exactly," Marissa said. "They needed to see that they had similarities. That they each had ways to cope. That maybe they could share those coping mechanisms. Oh, and one more thing..."

He raised his eyebrow but remained silent.

"You had asked for my analysis of Captain Rogers as the team's leader. I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why the hell not?" Fury growled. "I was told you were the best team dynamics specialist available this side of North Korea...and that guy spends his days in a cell to keep him from hearing real news."

"Because I did not see them in a combat situation. You see," Marissa squirmed a little in her seat, covering the action by straightening her skirt. "Captain Rogers is most assuredly their leader in a combat situation. There can be no doubt. They will defer to him, and follow his orders to the best of their extremely formidable abilities. But I think you'll find that this team has more than one dynamic, and outside of combat, it's Mr. Stark who leads them."

"Stark." Fury's voice was flat. Then he tilted his head a bit. "Explain to me how and why Tony Stark, the least responsible person on the planet, has turned into the leader of the most powerful gathering of superheroes the world has ever known."

Marissa smiled. "You can review the tapes if you'd like, Director. Each person told a story. Every person revealed emotions, unexpected emotions. And the person who brought them back to reality was, invariably, Stark. Sometimes someone else started it, particularly with Romanoff and Barton, but Stark always managed to draw the person's attention back to reality. His own story centered around someone else, his chauffeur/bodyguard.

"The fact is, Director, Mr. Stark is a very outward-looking man. He is hardly the selfish oaf you seem to believe him to be. He is a caring, protective friend. He worries about this team. I might even suggest he nurtures them, if you can use that word about a man like Stark.

"You'll never get them to believe it, mind you. And I realize that the minute they face a battle situation it'll be Rogers in charge because he has the strategic mind and the air of command. But when the battle flags are down, that is Tony Stark's team. Which goes a long way towards explaining why they all live at his house."

Fury laughed. "I figured that out a long time ago. Stark likes to keep his friends where he can see them."

On the video monitor, they saw Tony open the door to the room to admit Happy and a pretty woman in a SHIELD jacket. They were carrying a pizza box as well as what looked like a wrapped submarine sandwich, which they handed to Bruce.

"And protect them." Marissa stood up. "I've got to get back to DC tonight, Director. Thank you for this opportunity. I'll assure the Council that the world is in good hands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am holding my own hands to avoid posting Fury's favorite Cheese Bread recipe.


End file.
